


it was my fault

by mrswifts



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bad Parenting, Child Abuse, Child Death, Emotional Manipulation, Henry Should Be Michael's Father, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Male-Female Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, William Afton Is A Terrible Person, michael afton protection squad 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22939948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrswifts/pseuds/mrswifts
Summary: Michael Afton had always thought it was his fault; from his siblings’ deaths to everything else, it had to be all due to him. He wasn’t deserving of being alive when they—who deserved so much more—were gone.This isn’t how he should be coping, but it sure was the first way he found. And now he was stuck to it. Stuck in an unhealthy loop, craving to feel nothing. And when it gets better, suddenly it turns out to be worse than before.Why was it his fault?
Relationships: Elizabeth Afton & Michael Afton, Michael Afton & Charlotte "Charlie" Emily, Michael Afton & Henry Emily, Michael Afton & The Crying Child, Michael Afton & William Afton | Dave Miller
Comments: 11
Kudos: 199





	it was my fault

**Author's Note:**

> cw for: self harm, child abuse, child death, alcoholism, and, yknow, all the other things fnaf is known for  
> i didn’t mean to write something so... sad... but boy am i proud of it. pleasepleaseplease read the warnings for your own safety  
> i proofread this but if any errors escaped my eyes, feel free to point them out in the comments

Michael Afton had always thought it was his fault. Elizabeth’s death, for one; he had seen her sneak up to Circus Baby, and even though his Father did say to stop her at any moment, he didn’t care. Michael thought she was annoying, and he was a little rebel; thirteen-years-old only, he was at his rebellious phase. He wouldn’t do what his Father told him to do for the life of him,  _ why would he do it now? _

Well, that little decision cost the life of someone…, the life of Elizabeth. Due to his lack of responsibility, she had gotten too close for her own good to Baby— she had, she had just wanted to hear her sing, and see her dance, and give out ice cream, like her Daddy had said! Why was life so unfair, that just because of a little bit of selfishness, someone was taken away from the living? She didn’t deserve  _ any _ of that!

Then, surely, it had to have been his fault… That would explain why, when the opening party had been called off—after kids ran from Circus Baby’s stage, seeing the blood dripping from her stomach—, and every one of the attendees had gotten home, Father had screamed at him; Father had hit him; Father had stomped over Michael’s lanky body, until blood began to seep from his wounds, creating a pool of thick, scarlet blood.

Father was very much mad at him, and after relieving His tension through beating up His own son, He had ordered Michael to clean the mess He had made. Michael struggled to even get up, and as soon as he reached the bathroom and took a look at his face—his beaten up face, that had already swollen around the area his cheeks—, he felt the urge to throw up. The only reason he had resisted was because he saw the reflection of someone standing right behind him, and he had never wanted to look weak in front of that someone.

After his little mess up, Father found every opportunity to punish him, and every time,  _ He took it _ . Being mean to Cassidy? Heck, he knew his Father didn’t even like Cassidy as much as He loved Elizabeth, but even then, He would side with him—or at least Michael thought, as Cassidy had never wanted his older brother to suffer—. Scoring anything below an A earned him very deep scars on his wrists.

For sure, taking it out on Cassidy was acceptable then! After all, he had suffered the worst—he had suffered through physical and mental abuse—, so maybe, giving his little brother a few scares could not compare! He only had to worry about his Father seeing him, but after studying His unstable schedule and learning which days He was most likely to come home drunk, and after making his group of ‘friends’—he couldn’t even call them that—help him, he was pretty confident in himself!

Kevin, Eric and Daniel were three boys he knew from school. They were troublemakers and pretty popular, so Michael knew he could count on them to make Cassidy’s life somewhat of a living hell. The problem was; they weren’t even friends! These three didn’t even acknowledge Michael’s existence! So, after some time spent gathering blackmail on them—thank his Father’s genes for his abilities—, he had managed to make the bunch somewhat his… servants? That made Michael seem like a dictator, but they only had to follow what Michael said! Michael was still a nice boy…, right?

He had spent one week torturing Cassidy before finally coming up with his master plan! On Cassidy’s birthday—which would be celebrated at Fredbear’s Family Dinner, a weird choice since Cassidy  _ hated it _ —, he would prank his brother by throwing him at Fredbear’s mouth! His Father would be busy performing, and he only wanted to hear Cassidy scream in fear and terror, nothing more! He didn’t mean any physical harm. Nothing could go wrong at all!

Once again, Michael has ruined the life of another one! This time, it was his younger brother…,  **_Cassidy_ ** . No— No— NO—  **_NO_ ** — IT COULDN’T BE. CASSIDY HAD TO HAVE JUST BE PRANKING THEM. That outcome would have made him happier than… than realising his little brother was dead… dead because of him. Cassidy’s terror was treated as a joke as he—wearing the Foxy head he ripped from his brother’s old plushie—and Kevin, and Eric, and Daniel carried him to Fredbear’s mouth.

A loud sound was made before Cassidy’s body just stopped moving, and it stood still, almost peacefully, inside Fredbear’s mouth. Blood dripped from the mascot’s mouth, and his Father—who was onstage, with his beloved Spring Bonnie suit on,  _ performing _ —’s eyes widened, but He couldn’t do anything. Hurrying to save His son would probably result in a springlock accident, which He  _ didn’t really want to experience _ . Michael’s crew stared open-mouthed at the bear, and then soon ran away. Michael couldn’t move. As everyone ran far, far away from that cursed dinner— he could only stare at his brother’s limp body.

He didn’t know for how long he had stood there— _ he had lost track of time _ —, but soon the paramedics arrived, and he was shoved away as his Father appeared, out of the mascot suit, in the business clothes Michael knew very well. He helped the paramedics move the  _ child _ ’s body, and hurried with them towards the ambulance, but not before sending Michael a very  _ chilling and dead look _ . It signalised what was going to happen when he arrived from the  _ hospital _ .

Michael sat in one of the restaurant’s chairs—the ones at the dining area—, and although he would have loved to be alone and drown in his very own sadness, he didn’t have that pleasure. Instead, seated right in front of him was Henry Emily—his Father’s business partner and best friend—, and Charlotte Emily—the man’s daughter and Elizabeth’s  _ best friend _ —. He didn’t feel very comfortable next to them as they were nothing but strangers to one another.

Henry had, surprisingly, tried to comfort Michael and Charlotte—nicknamed Charlie—joined him. The boy didn’t want to admit it, but that was one of the best moments he had ever had in his life (well, if you ignored that he  _ literally murdered his own brother like the  _ **_piece of shit_ ** _ he was _ ); Michael had never been next to someone who truly wanted the best for him like Henry wanted. His Father was always the one putting him down, but Henry was… so different.

After Henry left him at his home—Father was  _ still _ busy at the hospital—, he hugged Charlie tightly, in a ‘goodbye’ sort-of way. Admittedly, he didn’t want to let go as he feared being alone, and then later being joined in by Father, but he had to; guess that meant he would be spending more time at the Emilys’ than his past self would’ve ever thought of. They were so warm and… nice. Michael was still surprised that Henry was his Father’s partner, due to their contrasting personalities.

Michael soon hurried to his room and locked the door—he had to practise not crying in front of his Father, he joked darkly. He looked at the clock (it marked eight o’clock) and decided to spend the time he had left—before getting his ass beat—playing the guitar he had managed to buy without Father noticing. He had had to earn a lot of money by doing chores for his neighbours in order to get it; it was one of his few treasured possessions.

He ignored all the warnings in his head, screaming for him to run away from Father—he knew it was a stupid idea, He had the whole city in his hands, it wouldn’t take too long for Him to find the boy—, and played the guitar mindlessly. It was only when he heard the door open violently, in a rough manner that his eyes widened. He put the guitar away, in a secret place within his bedroom, and took a deep breath. God, he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

He heard his Father’s footsteps as he climbed the stairs, up to his room. He panicked. He was going so agonisingly slow—Michael knew He had to be doing it on purpose. He wanted to fill his core with fear, until he couldn’t take it anymore and started crying—that was one of his tactics. And it was very much working, as the boy’s body started to tremble. And as he heard the steps getting closer, and closer,  _ and closer _ — his shivering grew.

It wasn’t until the footsteps stopped right outside his door that his heart  _ dropped _ —he so badly wished he could just disappear, not have to open the door to Him (unless he preferred a more serious punishment, which Michael did not). He heard a knock from Him, and hesitantly—but still quite fast, he did not want to make Father impatient—opened the door, preparing himself for probably the worst  _ thing  _ he’d ever experience. And the door handle turned.

As soon as he saw his Father’s cold, dead silver-blue eyes, his heart came back to life—this time,  _ beating so fast it hurt. It was hurting so much. He just wanted to end this already. Please— Father, have mercy on m— me, I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it— Father, please—  _ **_Father!_ ** His mind was a mess of thoughts and possibilities, and the injuries he’d have to see on his body later, oh God, he just wanted to cry—

...When Father left the room, it felt so cold. He laid on the wooden floor, staring up to the ceiling, as he felt the blood oozing from his face, and wrists, and legs, and  _ body _ — It all formed a pool beneath him, staining his purple jacket… It would be a mess to clean later, he didn’t even want to think about it… As he stood up and limped towards the bathroom, he looked at the mirror: this time,  _ there was no one behind him _ , _ although he swore he could see his Father’s horrible smirk _ . He splashed his face with water and went on to clean himself up.

His life had become a repeating cycle. He would wake up, go to school, go to the Emilys’ house, have lunch there—he often felt like a burden, even though Henry said he didn’t mind and treated Michael like his own son—, hang out with Charlie, go to the nearby park and sit there for awhile, while thinking about what a horrible person he was, then go home and listen to Father berate him. After Cassidy’s death, the days his Father came home drunk increased, and He’d often throw empty glass bottles at Michael, hoping to hurt him physically even more ( _ he was already not okay mentally _ ).

Michael had soon gotten into a habit of… hurting himself, in a way. He wanted to ease the pain; he wanted to pay for the sins he had committed; he wanted Cassidy, Elizabeth, and everyone he had ever hurt to forgive him; he’d use his nails to make cuts in his arms, so it was not that noticeable to Charlie. She had a way of looking into his soul, it was quite scary; she was the best friend he could have ever asked for.

...And once again, Michael’s life was ruined by  _ none other than himself _ . He had looked away from the party happening at the newest  _ Freddy _ ’s location— _ it had been a horrible idea, he knew it, no good ever came out of that cursed franchise _ —and soon, Charlie was  _ gone _ . No one could find her, not until the rain that poured outside stopped and a few parents found her mutilated body in the alleyway behind the establishment. Michael could only cringe, thinking about that; his best friend  _ was dead _ . She was not coming back. Michael hadn’t protected her, and now he would never see her  _ alive _ again.

Henry hugged him. Henry hugged him tightly as heavy, salty tears dropped from the man’s eyes. They both then began to cry together, trying to comfort themselves; one had lost his daughter, the other had lost a best friend. Father only watched,  _ faking _ a caring expression, trying to console His best friend as He said He knew how he felt—but that was a lie. Michael knew his Father didn’t care about him, much less his siblings; maybe once He loved them, but everything went downhill after Elizabeth’s death.

When away from Henry, He still sent that cold, emotionless expression to Michael. It conveyed a ‘don’t tell anyone’ (followed by a wink), which confirmed the boy’s suspicions even more. His Father was a murderer; He had killed  _ Charlie _ ; He had destroyed in cold blood the life of the sweetest girl Michael had ever gotten to know; He had willingly destroyed his best friend’s biggest reason for living; He was nothing more than a monster. And that irked him so much. He wanted revenge. But he knew that rebelling now would do no good; what was stopping his Father from murdering him too, after all?

Henry’s mental health soon worsened by each day; after a while, he wouldn’t even call Michael to his home anymore (like he would do when  _ Charlie _ was around)—which meant he was forced to stay more around his Father; he didn’t have any friends outside of the Emilys’, so it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. The other man seemed oblivious to his Father misdeeds—but not like Michael could blame Henry. He could fake a gentle, caring expression  _ so _ well; He could  **_lie_ ** so well; that probably was the only thing that filled the void that was  _ Father’s heart _ : his acting.

His Father had always loved His Spring Bonnie costume, after all.

As both families’ lives declined,  _ Freddy _ ’s wasn’t at its best moments either. Its’ peak had been rather short-lived due to four children going missing at one of its locations—he  _ knew _ who was the most likely suspect—; its reputation worsened, and suddenly all of its establishments started to close. Michael didn’t know how to feel—he hadn’t felt anything in a while, did his brain even remember how to do  _ that _ ?—, but his Father grew angrier and angrier by each day. It made sense, as He was the most devoted person to that franchise that Michael knew (but he didn’t know many people).

Then, everything changed; in ‘93, in January, his Father  _ actually talked to him  _ willingly. It surprised Michael, and he tried his best not to shiver as He spoke to him—he was 23 for  _ fuck _ ’s sake, keep it together, Michael!—. He had  _ simply _ requested for His son to go where his…  _ sister _ was trapped? His head  _ spun _ , what was it about remnant? And Elizabeth being trapped inside Circus Baby? The Funtime Animatronics? He  _ couldn’t  _ comprehend what his Father said, but he simply nodded in reply…

His Father caressed his hair before speaking quietly about ‘how Michael was His perfect copy’ and that ‘He was so proud of His boy’, and the young adult felt the need to throw up. He had already acknowledged his resemblance to Him as he reached the peak of adolescence, and he  _ hated _ it; Michael wanted to cut his hair and wear contacts, but he didn’t have the funds to do so—he  _ had  _ cut his own hair at home before, but Father hit him as soon as He saw Michael. He screamed at him, before locking him in his own room ( _ like he did to Cassidy _ ) to have him learn his lesson.

He felt the urge to throw up as soon as He let go, but he had to keep his cool. He had to stay calm, and plot his revenge; Michael could not rush it. He had to stay patient, he had to stay strong ( _ well, he had never been strong… _ ). As he left his Father’s house on a journey to Circus Baby Entertainment and Rental, he wondered if he would even be able to make it out alive. Michael had applied as a technician and soon got the job, the people there not daring to question who he was. They all turned pale when they first saw Michael; must have thought he was Him.

That job was terrifying;  _ every night _ , he felt like he had just escaped death by a miracle. He would go in looking like shit, and come out  _ even worse _ . The job exhausted him so much, and even when he got home, he couldn’t rest; he kept thinking of Elizabeth, who Father said possessed Baby. Well, maybe that answered why she was actually helping Michael;  _ did she still remember him...? _ That haunted his thoughts, adding to even more sleepless  _ mornings _ , he could say. He just wanted to save her…

And then, destiny finally turned against him. On that day, everything seemed different. Elizabeth— No,  _ Baby _ was speaking in a weird manner. It didn’t seem like Baby at all; he almost thought of not following her instructions, but decided against it. He didn’t want to anger her, and Michael was there to save  _ her _ , after all. Save his Father’s special little girl, save his  **_sister_ ** . He had failed everyone else, but at least he could repay her…

His insides were scooped out of his body. He choked on the metal claw that made its way inside his stomach; tears finally fell from his face, it hurt  _ so much _ . As soon as that  _ thing  _ left his body, he coughed up blood, a familiar pool forming below him. Spit dripped from his mouth, and his silver eyes—his eyes, just like his Father’s eyes—only saw that giant  _ amalgamation of animatronics _ before he couldn’t remember anything. That was it. He was finally dead…, killed by his own sister… At least, he would free her with his death... free her from that horrid place his  _ Father _ had trapped her in.

**♡**

Fate was cruel.

Fate was very, very cruel. Michael knew that ever since he was a child. But it seemed like fate, or whatever entity out there hated him the most, out of everyone. They hated him more than his Father—his Father, a  _ monster _ , it seemed like He had not suffered as much as someone who didn’t do anything with bad intentions like Michael had—, more than anyone else; he wondered if he had done something so tremendously awful in a past life.

_ Why was he alive _ ? _ Why did he suddenly wake up, feeling empty _ ?  _ His skin was a terrifying purple—reminded him of his Father’s colour scheme—, and he couldn’t feel anything, nothing at all _ .  _ Why was he still being punished _ ?  _ Was it because of the people he had killed indirectly _ ?  _ Were they still seeking revenge, and would never allow him rest _ ? He didn’t know, Michael had no way to know.

Michael limped in his house’s direction; for the first time in his life, Michael wanted to see his Father at home. Even though he despised Him so much, He was knowledgeable, maybe He knew what was happening to his body, and why he was still alive when there was  _ nothing _ inside him. But his Father wasn’t there, no.  _ He was nowhere to be found _ .

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He felt like punching himself, or harming his body even more so he wouldn’t come back again. He didn’t want to come back.

He just wanted to rest.

**Why wasn’t he allowed to?**


End file.
